


You Released Me

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [77]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crazy Peter, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lonely Stiles Stilinski, Neglect, POV Peter Hale, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Sad Stiles Stilinski, no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d been burned to the very bone, he’d been trapped in a world of loneliness and agony until one day a boy with a bloodied face and head walked into his life, and Peter never wanted to lose him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So my friends think I should get back to writing and so even though I protested against doing this the 15 minutes thing because I frankly don’t have much faith in myself right now when it comes to inspiration, but as always no one is listening to me and so 15min is back again. And all I can say is I’m not sure this is a good idea because although I am trying I feel like this was just a lame attempt at writing. But anyway, so let’s call this particular friend of mine Inkwell this time around, she asked for a fic where Peter Hale comes across a young Stiles Stilinski and how he later on decides to give him the bite even if Stiles doesn’t want it. And that was all she gave me and this is what happened.  
> Oh and to those who haven’t yet figured out what 15min is all about well here it’s in short, I’ve got 15min to write a story and it ends the moment the time is up so the endings aren’t great and neither is the writing.  
> And to those who know all about this series of stories and have hated them all, just let me tell you nothing has changed so just drag your hater-ass’ somewhere else and read stuff from people you already know you like, no need to torture yourselves with my stuff and frankly why waste your time on this just so you can get angry and unhappy? DO yourself a favor and read something you know you’ll like.  
> To the rest of you good luck, and my apologies upfront if you hate this!

 

Breathing hurt like nothing he had experienced ever before, being alive had become something of unwanted torture one which Peter Hale could’ve lived without ever having to endure. His body had become useless, nothing more than a burned bag of skin and bones and damaged nerve endings that kept alive the agony no drug could truly hide or remove.

 

He was trapped within his now useless, charred body that had become as capable of healing itself as any humans would. Peter was trapped in a body that was unwilling to function while his mind remained unreasonably clear thus making him aware of everything that was happening around him and too him. Peter did not only suffer from the physical agony of his body being burned and broken, his sense of smell had not unlike everything else about him been diminished to that of humans, event through the torment of pains unimaginable Peter Hale could smell the horrific stench of the severity of damage the flames had done and continued in the form of infections that seemed to take delight in his sudden inability to fight them with a shrug and a nights rest; Peter Hale was in an unimaginable hell he could not think to escape.

 

Days came and went in blurs of pain and moments of consciousness as well as times of unwanted clarity, during those days when his mind wasn’t alerted by the agony or trapped in a drugged haze Peter began to realize that he had been abandoned by the remaining members of his family and pack. During those few days when Peter was not trapped within restless nightmares where he relived the horrors of the fire that burned his life and body to nothing Peter Hale sensed the remaining pack-bond break and detach from him until he realized he’d been as good as banished from what remained of the Hale-pack and family; that he’d been unjustly to no fault of his own been reduced to nothing more than a damaged and useless omega was a blow that Peter could not deal or fathom, and as days molded quickly into weeks of nothing new and months of no importance his bitterness and rage molds itself into a madness of sorts which he would not recognize until much later in his life.

 

Peter is without knowledge of how long he’s exactly been trapped inside his body or how long he was made to go through reconstructive surgeries or how long it had taken for his body to learn how to breathe again on its own while still being unable to do much else than breathe and soil itself without his consent, none the less there comes a change to his everyday life rather surprisingly in the shape of a small boy.

 

This oddity that came to alert his daily life arrived when Peter Hale had come dangerously close to accepting the fact that he would forever remain in agony and alone without any real company came in the shape of a boy, a small one at that. Finding a small boy standing in his room for however long, Peter had hardly been aware of his surroundings, all Peter knew was he felt clean and he was back in his bed and he from the setting sun he knew morning had turned into evening.

 

The boy, a small child perhaps no older than eight or nine stood at the nurses side as she finished checking on Peter’s vitals, the nurse seemed to be ignoring the little boy who stood right there next to her almost behind her as if shy or fearful of Peter and the werewolf understood without ever seeing his own face that he must look like a monster with the damage the fire had caused his once so handsome face.

 

Perhaps it’s the time he’s spent without any proper conversation or the lack of anything to truly stimulate his mind enough to drag it out of horrific thoughts that continue to trap him within the flames and grief the hunters had wrought on him and his family, or perhaps it is the heavy doses of various medications that slows his thought process to a crawl, regardless of the reasons it takes Peter awhile to realize something wasn’t right about the scene before him, it takes the burned werewolf to realize that the little boy stood there wearing a bloodied batman t-shirt that wasn’t enough to cover him even enough to hide the underwear which were strangely enough sporting rainbows on them; once Peter’s brain catches on the strange way the child is dressed several other details about the state of the boy becomes clearer to him such as the map of various bruises some which appear to be only days old others fresher and some much older, but as the boy turns his head as if to check behind him Peter sees the nasty looking wound that stands so horrifically out against the back of the little head and Peter thinks that the loneliness that he’d seen in the brown eyes was replaced with curiosity when the child returns his attention back to Peter.

 

The nurse leaves without so much as glancing at the small boy who looks cautiously hopeful, and as soon as the door is closed behind the nurse who hadn’t spoken a single word to Peter or the boy. Whiskey brown eyes widened as their eyes met, the boy with a bloodied nose and a cut lip just stood there by his bed gawking at him before waving awkwardly at him and Peter would’ve responded the same way but Peter hadn’t moved on his own possibly in years, his body no longer responds to his will and wants as it had once done.

 

`You can see me? ´the boy asks while cautiously moving closer to Peter, the child seemed reasonably skittish around Peter and frankly Peter feels the same, Peter grows more and more aware of all the wrongs about the boy in his room; there was no scent to this child at least none he could catch on too or hear the beat of a young heart.

 

`No one sees me,´ the little boy says as he scrambles up onto Peter’s bed, the matrass doesn’t even move not even the slightest bit, Peter isn’t sure that this isn’t a figment of his imagination but then again why would he ever imagine something like this? Why not imagine someone else such as a member of his family or one of his many lovers, why a strange bloodied child?

 

`I think I’m real, like you.  My name is Stiles by the way, ´ the boy says as he settles next to Peter but Peter feels nothing other than a sense of confusion, `I’m not a ghost because if I was then I’d had to be dead, but I’m not dead so don’t be scared okay.´

 

`You’re Peter Hale right? ´ this boy, Stiles says while flopping down next to him and wriggling around until he’s comfortable beside Peter who doesn’t even feel any of the child’s movements, `Everyone here thinks you’re going to die, they’ve got a bet going on.´ the boy seems to find the idea of people betting on Peter’s survival displeasing and it makes Peter think that this boy if indeed he was real had been raised right. Peter isn’t surprised by this news of his caregivers placing bets on his life and death, he’s known for months that at least a handful of people have been cursing the fact that he’s not getting worse even if he’s not getting better.

 

`You really shouldn’t die Peter, ´ the boy says with a seriousness while wiggling himself closer to Peter’s side, resting his head down above Peter’s charred heart, Peter wants to ask him why not, he’s got nothing and no one waiting for him outside of the hospital, `You should survive just to spite them all.´ the boy says with a wicked little grin on his bruised face. Peter can’t help but feel his heart leap with a little bit of amusement, Peter finds himself thinking that this odd little thing that had taken place next to him was adorable even with the blood and the bruises covering his sweet little face.

 

`Can I stay here with you? Just for a little while? ´ the boy asks and Peter thinks why not it’s not like he could force the kid to leave, `I will go if you want me too.´ the child says, promises really, and Peter can’t help but wonder whether or not this odd little thing latched to his side can hear his thoughts and to his great surprise and somewhat delight when the little boy nods.

 

Peter was pleased to find someone to hold a conversation with between moments of madness and even during them, Stiles becomes adapt in drawing Peter out of scorched memories filled with the screams of his family and pack or perhaps they were all dreams, nightmares that had him crying and screaming without making a sound until Stiles’ soft voice reached him calming him down and soothing the haunting ache inside him with gentle touches;after these horrific moments when Peter’s mind betrayed him and pulled him back in time to a moment when he’d been torn asunder in more ways than one the little boy would lay beside him humming softly or talk about this and that until Peter’s heartrate slowed down into something less frantic, at times during those moments Peter imagined that he could feel the small body against him that he could feel a gentle warmth radiate from the smaller body that curled beside him on the bed or climbed up onto his lap when Peter sat in his wheelchair doing nothing.

 

It takes a great while before Peter realizes that his odd little companion never strays too far from his side and when on the rare occasions he does it is only for an hour tops before he’s right back at Peter side sadness written so clearly on the young face as well as radiating right out of the little child, and no matter how gently Peter tries to pry the reasons behind the unwanted sadness the child would remain silent while curled-up tightly against Peter’s side crying as quietly as he possibly could.

 

While Peter has always been proud of his sharp mind and the ability to put two and two together fairly easily it takes him a shameful amount of time to realizes that having this boy around him drags him further and further away from sinking into nothingness, this little boy sparks a hunger to be more than just some living-breathing-vegetable, Peter’s no fool he knows when the realization washes over him why he’s suddenly healing much faster than before it’s because both he and his wolf have accepted this phantom of a child as pack.

 

With the passing of days and nights each spent in the company of the small child who’s appearance changes very little, the bruises had been lost with the passing of time and so were the other damages that had littered the boy and yet the child does not age a day, and while the child stays pretty much the same Peter does not as he grows stronger and as Peter’s strength increases so does the wolfs desire to avenge its decimated pack and the wants of the wolf fuels Peter own want to gain the power he’d been unjustly denied; there’s a madness to their desires one which frightens the child in bloodied clothes, a child who in his sweet naivety begs for Peter not to do or even think about all the dreadful things Peter and his wolf want and plan to do as motion returns to their limbs. Stiles doesn’t appreciate Peter’s chase for vengeance or even the way the older male uses the nurse who’d in her desperation to be loved to hold some form of power in her grasp became so very willing to do anything Peter asked of her.

 

Stiles may not support Peter’s decisions but he continues to lurk near him with an air of disapproval surrounding his suddenly silent for, the silent hostility is rather amusing to Peter for there is nothing Stiles can do to stop him, and frankly a disgruntled Stiles is an adorable sight to behold.It might be the way the child never truly leaves him that makes it so easy for Peter to speak so unkindly to the child when the boy finally yells at him on the night Peter sets the plan in motion that would end with him becoming an Alpha and his niece Laura dying; then again the boy had called him a monster so in Peter’s mind he was justified in his cruelty.

 

`Well,´ Peter drawls out as if he was bored to death by this angry-looking child standing between him and his freedom, between him and his rightful power, `at least my mother never tried to beat the life out of me because she thought I was a monster.´ Stiles’ mouth drops open and his crossed arms fall to his side like all strength had left his small body as though there was suddenly led in those small arms, there’s a look on the child’s face that should be enough to cause Peter to pause and think about what he’s doing to the child that had kept him alive and strong during all these passing years but it does not.

 

Peter knows he’s now revealed how much he’d learned about this mystery child that had served him up until now well, `And at least my father never abandoned me.´ his words are cruel, sadistic and the child looks upon him as if Peter had suddenly struck him, clawed his pale skin into bloodied ribbons while devouring the air right out of his little lunges. And yet even seeing the devastation he’s wrought Peter is incapable of stopping, he’s been molded into this cruel creature who finds strength in the pain of others even in this child who’d with gentle touches and cuddles kept him from feeling alone and unwanted; years of loneliness are still weighing heavily on his heart and he can’t forgive the world for what it had done.

 

` Tell me Stiles,´ Peter says softly as if he was about to comfort the child but there’s no comfort to be had from Peter then and there, `when was the last time daddy came to see you?´ the boy looks hurt and close to crying and Peter knows he should stop but he’d had never been able to stop when he felt like his cruelty was justifiable,there’s a tear dancing down the pale cheek of the boy who looked far too young to stand there in the room of a grown man while half-naked and crying. Stiles weeps without shame eyes wide and full of hurt and sadness, and this would’ve been the time a better man or even just a half-decent person would stop tormenting the child but Peter was annoyed with the child who’d listened to Peter for oh so many year and should understand why Peter had to do what he was about to set out to do; Peter had spent years talking with this child who’d kept secrets from him, secrets Peter had dug out and into the light of day by using one of his pawns, Stiles knew exactly what Peter had lost and what he’d suffered through and so the werewolf does not stop or think twice about using what he’d learned about his little companion against the child.

 

`Then again,´ Peter drawls out, crouching before the child so they are at eyelevel, he reaches out to brush away a couple of tears in mock gentleness, `Why would he come and visit _you_  now that he’s got a new family?´ and it was true that the man that had fathered Stiles had as good as abandoned the boy for the sake of his new wife and a daughter as well as a young son, Stiles father had moved on with his life leaving his first-born son to rot away alone in a miserable little room, ` You’ve been left here to die Stiles Stilinski,´ the boy flinches back away from his touch and Peter can’t help but smile, `Daddy left you here to be forgotten until your heart stops and there’s a funeral that has to be arranged.´ Stiles lets out a loud sob before taking off running down the hall and away from Peter who cruelly shouts after him, `I bet he’s not even going to give you a proper funeral.´

 

Peter expects Stiles to return to him eventually but days pass and nights too until a week turns to two and his little unseen companion does not return to his side, and Peter finds himself missing the child tremendously even after his nephew begins to visit if only to whine and whimper about the miserable and useless boy Peter had in a state of desperation bitten. Derek cries over Laura but Peter does not give a damn about Derek’s grief or frustration for there is a constant and unrelenting ache inside of Peter’s body that doesn’t ease no matter the days that pass or what his nurse says or does to distract him. Peter finds no comfort in Derek’s voice or touch, what Peter needs is Stiles back at his side, sleeping beside him at night, talking softly with his head on Peter’s shoulder while they sit watching the sun set.

 

In the end Peter’s desperation grows enough to drive him to search for the child, but the boy does not return no matter how desperately Peter howls for him, and if Peter hadn’t found the body of his little companion and heard the slow thump of a heart unwilling to perish then Peter might’ve feared the worst. And perhaps it is that fearful thought, the dreadful truth of time that will one day end with the death of Stiles Stilinski that begins to whisper a form of action which Peter had not imagined ever doing.

 

Peter’s patience dies on the very night when his nephew finally realizes who the Alpha running around Beacon Hill was, it all comes to an end with a fit of rage that drives Peter to lash out at everyone, he’s got blood on his hands by the time his nephew walks back into the dull ward where Peter had been trapped and alone until Stiles had found himthere’s an anger in him, a madness it’s true, but Peter knows not to kill Derek for he will need him once he has Stiles back where he belongs and that is the only reason Peter doesn’t kill his nephew instead of stealing away his life Peter merely forces him to submit to him. Without dwelling on the pleasure of seeing his nephew surrender to him, he doesn’t dwell on the pleasure of forcing his nephew to accept him as his Alpha.

 

 Peter drags his nephew to the room where their future pack-mate is held captive.

 

Peter pushes the door open easily and swiftly moves across the room to where the Stiles Stilinski remained in the same sad and lonely state Peter had left him the previous night, Peter picks up the limp hand that is so frightfully light, the boy is withering away and Peter knows it’s now or never.

 

`Time to wake-up sweetheart,´ Peter says with a gentleness he had not shown the child the last time he’d seen the little boy, `time to come back to me.´ without a warning Peter bites down hard on the thin wrist of the motionless body ignoring his nephews protest, with all his might Peter wills the bite to take. He demands the body that had been weakened by the passing of time. Peter demands this skeletal body to give into his power and demands, _Peter_ demands Stiles to return to him and to stay with him forever.

 

`Peter?´ the small frightened voice says from the open door through which Peter had entered while dragging his rather unwilling nephew with him, Peter turns his glowing red-eyes and bloodied mouth towards the little figure that looks for once terrified of him, `What – why?´ the child whispers voice trembling.

 

`You’ll never leave me Stiles, never again.´ Peter says, promises, swears while ignoring the confused and frightened look his nephew shoots him while asking fearfully, `Peter who are you talking too? What are you looking at? ´

 


	2. Where’s My Son!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15minutes is back, sorry about that. My friend who is at the moment lovingly called Sarcastic-Satnav-Satire, couldn't come up with anything so she picked this fic for me to add a chapter too, she wanted it to be of the Sheriff and his POV. Hopefully someone will enjoy this.

 

  
John Stilinski startles awake, escaping the dreadful nightmare that had plagued his sleep. It’s been years since he’d had any nightmares staring his lost son and so the Sheriff of Beacon Hills is pretty shook-up by it, his chest heaves with labored breathing and his heart is still beating with the unsteady ferocity, it was almost as if his body truly believed he’d been running like he’d done in the dreadful nightmare where his baby boy was crying for him to come and save him.

There was something new and disturbingly different about this nightmare, something that had him covering his mouth as a sob threatened to leave his dry throat. It takes John a minute to realize what was so upsetting about a dream that had started out like all the others before it, and then as he glances at the alarm clock situated on the edge of the bedside table he realizes it was what he had found at the end of the long narrow hall that was new and so upsetting to him.

The monster, the bogeyman, in this very dream hadn’t been Claudia with her bloodied hands and dress or the bloodied hammer she’d used to beat their son silent, a silence from which their little boy had never rose from. There had been a monster unlike any John had seen before, a creature with sharp fangs covered in blood and with great hands with claws designed to kill. The hulking figure covered in black fur looked pretty much like some doped-up mutated version of the werewolves he’d seen in various movies, and this beast that had its bloodied hands and strong arms wrapped around his little boy had eyes that glowed red.

John could remember his son crying for him to help, to save him, and yet John had been too petrified to move especially as the creature turn its glowing eyes in his direction and growl fiercely almost possessively, `Mine. Mine now.´

`It was just a nightmare.´ he mumbles into the darkness of the bedroom, tying to focus on the soft slow breathing of his wife Melissa, `Just a nightmare.´

He nearly leaps out of his skin when the phone next to the clock that told him it was 3.33 AM starts to sing its terrible tune. Melissa groans unhappily against his shoulder before rolling over and sitting-up while mumbling something about coffee, she’s spent enough years married with him to know the drill; even if he would not begrudge her for continuing to sleep Melissa still always got up and out of bed when a call came, she’d brew him a cup of coffee and make him at least a sandwich to eat while he took a quick and cold shower to wake-up.

John sits up, feet touching the cold floor before he finally grabs his phone, his body goes cold when he sees the caller ID, and he breathes out with trepidation, `It’s – it’s not work.´

Melissa comes to a stop and she’s suddenly wide awake and moving to sit next to him, holding his hand tightly as he answers the call that could only be about his son. Neither one of them expects the news to be any other than one of death or a just a call to say this was it that Stiles wasn’t expected to see another sunset, they’ve been waiting for this day to come for a while now and yet now that it’s there John dreads it.

John feels suddenly guilty about not visiting Stiles in over a year, or rather a year and a half, but with work and the boys and Melissa he just didn’t have the time or the energy. But he knows all of his excuses were weak at best when the truth was that he just didn’t want to see his son the way he was now; he didn’t want to see and remember his son as this unmoving, silently, deathly pale figure that was in his opinion already as good as dead.

His voice is shaky as he finally answers the call but so was the voice of the woman on the other end, she introduces herself as Dr. Marling and throwing in a few useless titles before saying the very words John hadn’t expected to hear.

`Mr. Stilinski, sir, I’m sorry to inform you that,´ he holds his breath and braces himself for the bad news that isn’t what he’d expected it to be, ` that your son is – well, sir, he’s missing.´

`Excuse me? ´ he breathes out in disbelief, `Excuse me, what did you say? ´

`I’m sorry sir, but your son – Stiles was it – has gone missing but I assure you sir, ´ and she starts to say something about everything being done to find his missing son who has been unresponsive for years and years and years, but he shuts her up by snapping at her furiously.

`What the hell do you mean my son is missing!?´

He’s not even aware that he’s standing or passing around in a tight little circle not until Melissa is standing right there next to him demanding the same answers as he was seeking, the woman starts once again to apologize but he doesn’t want to hear it, what he wants are answers.

`Could he have woken-up, gone wandering?´ the idea of Stiles being lost inside the hospital was a kinder thought than imagining something in the lines of somebody abducting him, although he couldn’t think of any reason why someone would want to abduct his son unless of course he dwelled deeper into the sick and darker parts of his imagination.

`No.´ both Melissa and the woman on the phone says, Melissa explaining to him how Stiles body would be far too weak to have him walking around lost and confused, while the woman on the other end of the line does the same but with far more medical jargon.

`Then how the fuck is my son missing!´ John positively screams into the phone before starting to get dressed, he’s not all that bothered if he just caused the boys to wake-up since his son was missing possibly in the hands of some sick-bastard.  
  
`We don’t know.´ the woman says, `We honestly don’t know what’s happened,´ and there’s just something about the way her voice quivers that tells him something else is going on, something this nervous woman wasn’t telling him.

He’s looking over at his wife who is getting dressed just like him, and just like him she’s on the phone and now she looks rather pale and she grabs him by the arm and mouths out the words, `Two patients are missing, and a nurse.´

John suddenly feels a dread he hasn’t felt in years not since he came home from work only not to be welcomed by his son who’d always in the past rushed over to him to welcome him home, a dread he hadn’t felt since he saw the first drops of blood on the floor and bloodied little palm prints here and there on the walls of the house he’d sold years ago.

`There are three people missing? ´ and as soon as he’s asked the question the woman goes absolutely quiet, and he just knows there’s something he’s not being told and so he snaps at the unfortunate lady who’d called him so very early in the morning, `What aren’t you telling me? ´ he asks voice tight and angry, `I’m the goddamn sheriff of this town and this case will fucking land on my desk no doubt so just tell me right now.´

`Sir, there’s been an incident…´ those words did not nearly describe the destructive mess he found once he arrived at the hospital, that weak statement what an understatement of what he found as he stepped out of the elevator. The floor that had housed his son for many years was littered with broken glass and as if a great brawl had taken place there, there were broken lights and furniture, there were holes in the walls and John was as baffled as his fellow deputies were.

  
The worst of the damage done was in the corridor where there were only two doors open, or rather one door was broken down and the other lay open waiting for the Sheriff of Beacon Hills to come and take a look, Peter Hale brother of Talia Hale was missing and his room looked like the fight from the hall had moved into the room or perhaps it was the other way around perhaps a fight that had erupted in Mr. Hale’s room had moved out into the hall.

The room was a mess but John could tell that only fairly recently had Peter Hale started to have visitors, it was easy to tell by the fresh flowers trampled on the floor and by the lack of pictures and cards. When John had still had the time, the heart to visit his son he’d always brought something a bit more permanent than flowers, a card or a picture, a stuffed toy or a new book for him to read to his unconscious son.

He’s careful not to disturb anything, and he moves out of the way when Kristofferson starts the troublesome task of finding some fingerprints that might give them someone to chase, the middle aged man who spent his weekends hunting or at the firing-range had a grim look about him as he started to work and John leaves him to it instead heading towards the room into which his son had been moved into six months or was it more? He had been informed about the move.

John makes his way to the room that had been housing his son for nearly two years now, John doesn’t know what to expect to find as he slips inside the room a bed without sheets was one of them but the bleakness of the room hadn’t been what he’d been expecting, of course there wouldn’t be pictures of Winnie the Pooh or Tigger on the walls yet the bleakness of the room was a shock to him; sure, he’d given the staff the okay to throw away a few things like Scott’s old drawings and cards, a few of the old toys too since Stiles didn’t have any use for them anymore but still the room shouldn’t have looked so sterile and cold.

`Sheriff,´ he hears someone say from behind him as he stares down at the last picture of his first family, the original one, the one that was fine and good before Claudia was lost.

`Anything? ´ John asks since he’s fairly sure whoever it is standing behind him works alongside him.

`No. We’re going to send the sheets to the lab, check if the blood we found is a match, ´ John spins around to face the young female deputy that had only joined the force a few months ago, she was though and smart and he was fairly certain she’d either move on from Beacon Hills to bigger and better things or replace him as the Sheriff, the young lady looked all sweet and nice but he’d seen her take down guys twice her size.

`What blood? ´ he asks her and she looks hesitant before answering, telling him they had found blood on his son’s sheets, she ensures him there’s not all that much of it but to him the stain of blood he sees through the evidence bag is enough to make him feel even more worried for the well-being of his son especially since whoever it was that had taken his son and Mr. Hale had managed to leave the hospital without a single security camera catching a glimpse of their faces due to some glitch. 


End file.
